


One and Only, Right?

by XeniavanHausen



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Changing Lovers, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Gradual Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Marriage, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, major angst, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XeniavanHausen/pseuds/XeniavanHausen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Shizuo thought getting married would set his life in a better direction and be rid of Izaya, he starts to find out more about the raven that he never knew...why can't he ever get Izaya out of his life?</p><p>*Slowly being moved onto AO3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from DRRR Kink meme:
> 
> Shizuo is marrying some woman he's been dating for a while now (Can be an original character/some character from a different anime, even).  
> He invites everyone he knows to the wedding. Including Izaya.  
> AND THEN ONE SIDED SHIZAYA HAPPENS.  
> I wanna see Izaya losing it. I wanna see ANGST. I wanna see Izaya sadder than he's ever been.
> 
> Bonus:  
> -Izaya going to Shiki for comfort (And tries to hide the fact that he's freaking sad and wants to cry 24/7)  
> -Izaya asking Shiki to come with him to the wedding cause he can't go alone and there's no way in hell that he's missing it.  
> -Angst. Like, maximum level of ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST.

_Bam!_

Izaya blinked, snapping out of his reverie. Lifting his eyes, his gaze met a certain brunette's, though the latter's was not as nonchalant.

Keeping his fingers delicately interlocked, elbows propped on the armrests of his sleek swivel chair, legs gracefully placed on the side of the modern desk, Izaya upheld his beautiful mask of being better than anyone else.

"Namie-san, what's the matter?"

"What's the matter!" Namie growled through her gritted teeth. "Quit slacking off and do your part of the job! I am not staying overtime and covering for you." Her eyes squinted into slits as she enunciated the last few words for emphasis. She jerked her arms off her hips and spun around, heading back to her seat on the couch, sleek and modern, matching all the other expensive furniture in the informant's high-class abode.

Izaya watched Namie's long hair twirl as she turned her back to him, sighing after she took a few steps away.

He reached for the files that were slammed onto his desk and flipped through them absentmindedly. His mind was elsewhere, treading on disputed territory once again, as it did the past two days.

Izaya found himself thinking of the same thing again. Upon realization, he jerked his legs off the table and straightened himself. Staring blankly at the computer screen, he picked up his pile of files, thumped them against the desk so that they were neatly aligned, and set them in front of his keyboard.

Unknowingly, he stared down at the papers as all thought flew out of his brain.

…

_What was I going to do?_

He glanced up at the dark desktop—it had gone to sleep—and back down to the files.

_Oh, right._

With a sweep of the mouse, the informant awoke his computer and began typing, looking at the files from time to time.

For about seven minutes, the only sound resonated from the furious click-clack of Izaya's keyboard. The steadiness of that and the otherwise complete silence drowned everything out of the raven-haired man's mind.

_This is from…_

He glanced down at the file.

_Ikebukuro._

His elegant fingers came to a halt, and his crimson eyes grew wide at the word. A flood of mixed emotions flickered through his reddish-brown orbs while his whole body froze, paralyzed.

He couldn't think.

What was he doing?

_I don't know._

His mind ran through a jumble of thoughts, all of them incoherent, yet related.

_I don't know anymore…_

He didn't realize as his fingers clenched tightly.

_I—I can't. Not when Namie's—_

Izaya jolted out of his sudden immovability.

_Where was I?_

_Oh, the information. I need to finish this._

Trying to shove the thoughts out of his mind, Izaya glued his eyes to the screen, but he was unable to prevent himself from peering down at the word "Ikebukuro" for a few intermittent split seconds.

The evening passed in that manner—Namie staying quiet, doing her work, and ignoring Izaya while the latter typed away on the keys—and when Namie looked up at the clock to see the hands showing that it was six, she sighed in relief. Packing her bag, she organized her work, walked over to her boss, said a quick, "I'm leaving," and was out the door just as quickly.

The click of the lock echoed in the silent room.

After blanking out for a few seconds, Izaya exhaled deeply and leaned back in his comfy chair. His arms hung limp at his side as he threw his head back. Inattentively, his legs slowly spun him around.

Now that Namie was gone, no one was there to see him in such a humiliating state.

Unable to concentrate, unable to think of anything else…unable to forget and accept.

Izaya closed his eyes, and he can remember everything so vividly, stabbing at his heart and being each passing second.

_Why…?_

_Why…didn't I know that this would happen someday?_

_At least when…I saw them grow closer…each passing day._

A painful tug of his heart made him grab at his chest.

With an unreadable expression, Izaya pressed the power button on his desktop and stood up. Mechanically, his legs carried him away from his desk and into that dark place of his apartment, where his bed was located. He barely realized that he had reached his room until he crawled under the covers, wrapping himself, in an effort to warm up.

From what?

What was he warming up from?

Certainly, it was cold. Outside, the temperature was definitely chilly. Inside, Izaya's apartment was never warm. No, not with the coldness of the only two who were ever there.

That was not the case, though.

Izaya shivered from the temperature. Yet, he also trembled from the inside out. That frozen heart of his throbbed in pain as it began to crack…

It was already shattered before it froze over.

Now, in its state, crushed and frozen, a crack was splintering.

How much more can he take before he can feel warmth again?

How long will it take for him to find the light once more?

How can he—

_It's always like this._

The raven-haired man pulled his knees up and hugged himself close.

_I don't need anyone._

He interlaced his fingers and held tight.

_I've survived this long._

His fingers started to hurt.

_What bullshit they say...I don't need anyone to live. I'm fine alone._

He released his hard grasp and relaxed his legs and arms. Stretching out his legs, Izaya moved one hand and clutched the side of his pillow.

_I…_

_I thought…_

He sighed and turned to lie on his back, throwing one hand on his forehead.

_Pathetic._

_This is pathetic._

I'm  _pathetic._

Pause.

_I only wished that he'd…_

A lone tear slid down the side of his face, tickling his ear.

The complete silenced droned in his ear as he lay ambivalent in his half-consciousness.

Finally, slowly, the sweet clutches of sleep took over—yet, was his sleep truly "sweet"?

.

Izaya's eyelids flew open, blind in the darkness of the night. His room was completely black, except for the small blinking light from where his cell phone was charging on his bedside drawer. He wondered briefly why he awoke; the confusion gradually slipped away.

The raven-haired man was lying on his side, facing his cell phone. As unconsciousness left him each passing second, the uncomfortable stiffness of his cheeks called for his attention. Lifting his free hand—the one he wasn't laying on—to wipe at the dried tears, Izaya remembered that he had inevitably let out those displays of weakness.

For the past two days, ever since he received  _that_  invitation…he had been…well, to say the least, 'out of it.' But seriously? Orihara Izaya—the great  _Orihara Izaya_ , unable to do his job correctly?

Yes.

Every time he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, they would come rushing back at the slightest trigger. It nearly drove him insane. He would find himself sitting at his chair, leaned back, either with his eyes closed or staring at the ceiling. Once, even when he was meeting with a client, he drifted off into another parallel universe while the man across from him kept talking, then repeated a few "Um, Orihara?" until he was jolted back by Namie's annoyed "Ahem" and purposefully loud  _clunk_  of the cup as she set it down in front of him.

Immediately, he regained his poise and replied with, "Oh, I'm sorry Tanaka-san; you said you wanted information on your rival companies?"

Thus, the conversation reverted back to business.

Every day was bland and boring—too methodical—for Izaya's liking. Even as an informant, dealing with all these different people, meddling with all these controversial topics, Izaya never felt satisfied, which is one reason why he perpetually screwed things up: organized gang wars, framed criminals, anything.

A reason why he worked for Awakusu-kai.

Why he incessantly…pranced around Ikebukuro.

.

"Black coffee, sir?" The young girl behind the counter questioned hesitantly.

"Yes, that's what I said, wasn't it?" The raven-haired man's voice was friendly enough, along with his flawless smile; yet, his words had a certain sting to it.

"Of-of course." Mid-length, brown bangs dropped in front of the flustered girl's face as she looked down at the register to take the order. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and a light brown bandana was secured around the top of her head. An apron the color of dark chocolate wrapped around her body, tied once neatly around her neck and another time around her waist and back. The café newly opened a few months ago near Izaya's apartment, but he never really took the time to try it out. Well, he didn't like sweets in the first place, so much less incentive for him to come.

"That will be a total of 284 yen, sir, or would you like anything else?" Their eyes met, and after staring into those inquiring hazel eyes for a few seconds, Izaya glanced up at the menu, scanned the list of sweets, desserts, and other foods they offered, and took a quick glimpse at the adjacent bakery cabinet then at the display racks at the far wall. The bakery was well-furnished and gave off a comfortable, cozy feeling. The walls were painted a creamy, vanilla color, while the logos, uniforms, and furniture matched with a dark, coffee tint. Lights shone from the ceiling, small and a bright whitish-yellow. Turning his gaze back to the girl in front of him, Izaya said, "I would…"—a slight hesitation—"actually like to try a cinnamon bun."

"Sure, no problem." She punched some buttons, looked up, and asked again, "Is that all, sir?"

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, then, your total now is 373 yen. Oh, thank you," she added as Izaya handed her a 500 yen coin. "Would you like me to heat the cinnamon bun for you?" She patiently waited for Izaya to decide.

 _Does it taste better that way?_ "Well, yes, please."  _Why not?_

"Okay, great. Please wait a moment and your coffee and cinnamon bun will be ready. Thank you. Here's your receipt." She had kept a smiling face the as she took Izaya's order, vaguely noting how the pale, lean face seemed tired, how the skin below the eyes was darkened. He tended to pause a few seconds each time before replying, his eyes unfocused, as if he forgot where he was and what he was doing.

"Thank you…" He reached for the thin piece of paper and instinctively walked over to the side counter to wait for his coffee to be finished. Staring at nothing in particular, Izaya looked through the large glass at the front of the café and watched the ordinary flow of people outside. At seven in the morning, the sky was still dark. Dense, gray clouds loomed over Shinjuku, releasing drops of rain here and there, but never steadily nor heavily. The people walking to work or wherever their destination was carried umbrellas above their heads as a precaution, since the dark clouds did not look promising.

"-rihara-san. Orihara-san," Izaya snapped his head in the direction of voice, "your drink and bun is ready."

"Ah, thank you."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short explanation: .x. means I'm going to talk about the past.
> 
> .xx. means we're done with that small time-skip and back in the present.
> 
> A simple . means I went forward a bit in time, such as a few hours, or from morning to the evening, etc. Still present time.

Izaya grabbed his cup of black coffee and wrapped cinnamon bun.

He stood there and paused again, wondering if he should just leave or actually sit down in the bakery. Peering out into the sky, he decided that staying inside for ten minutes or so wouldn't be all that bad.

He and three others were the only customers present, for the day was still early, it was a weekday, and the weather wasn't particularly enchanting.

Finally, he walked over to a table by the window in front of the shop and sat.

The strong, bitter aroma of coffee wafted from his cup and he remembered to take a sip. The bitterness awakened his senses, prompting Izaya to continue drinking.

As he sat there, the soft hum of the music in the café along with the shuffling of the workers behind the counter provided him with some distraction for his keen sense of observation.

If he had sat at home alone, surely his mind would go crazy.

Last night, he had woken up at three in the morning; despite his efforts to resume sleeping, the world of unconsciousness cruelly evaded him.

For over an hour, the informant tossed and turned in his bed, finally giving up on getting any more sleep and settled with lying on his back with his arm over his forehead.

He heaved a sigh and let his thoughts run wild. Images from two days ago flashed through his head, vivid enough to create the illusion that Izaya was reliving that time, when the news was delivered to him.

.x.

_Two days ago._

Namie sullenly worked at the coffee table, as always. Izaya reviewed some new information for a client that was coming in the evening, typing away at his keyboard, flicking from one screen to another on his monitor.

The day had been fairly normal, save for the vehement stranger that burst into the informant's office claiming that Izaya ruined his life.

How? Well, it was something along the lines of "my wife left me, all because of you! Now I get fired from my job and kicked out of my apartment, and I'm swamped in debt! All because of you! You fucking motherfu—"

Before he could finish that sentence, security had dragged him away.

Izaya merely gave the man a quick sweep of the eye—it nearly bordered on irritation—before he returned his gaze to his computer.

Namie looked up from her work, glanced over at Izaya, and resumed her organizing with a "hmph"; it can easily be translated into: "What'd you do now? Just don't give me any more trouble than you already do."

Izaya understood Namie's meaning, opting, instead, to ignore it and continue with his own work. Not ten minutes had passed when another knock sounded at the door and Namie groaned softly—and irritably—as she stood up to allow another client in.

Izaya expected the usual distant mumbles of greetings, formalities and the taps of the soles of shoes as they approached his desk, but silence filled his ears.

Lifting his head to find out what caused the abrupt change of routine, Izaya froze first from shock, then from confusion.

"Dotachin?"

The beanied-head turned in the direction of the informant. His expression was guarded, appearing not unlike a child who ate all the cookies, wanted to confess due to guilt, yet was also afraid of the possible punishments and scolding.

With his hands in his coat jacket, Kadota nodded slightly and said a nonchalant, "Hey," although a hint of tension was evident.

Namie had already started walking back to her seat, with Kadota hesitantly following a few steps behind.

"How may I help you, Dotachin?" The informant's voice was full of amusement; Kadota swore Izaya planned to tease him to no end, but even worse was the imminent change in attitude Kadota knew was going to come.

Now  _that_  was scary. An even more unpredictable Izaya…Kadota shuddered at the thought.

"Well, Izaya, I have something important that I have to tell you." He sunk into the sleek, black sofa across from Namie and reached a hand on top of his head.

Izaya frowned at the uncomfortable expression of his former classmate.

"I expected as much." He stared at Kadota from behind his desk. He stood there, one hand propping him up as he placed more weight on one leg.

Kadota was fully aware of the other's unwavering scrutiny, but he refused to meet it. Scanning the apartment, he tried to appear casual.

"So? What is it that you need to tell me?"

Kadota inwardly sighed.

His gaze landed on the coffee table. He glanced sideward briefly at Izaya. "Well, you see…how should I put this…" His eyes dropped and he struggled with his thoughts and words.

Izaya stared at Kadota for another ten seconds, straightened, and strolled over to the sofa where Dotachin and Namie sat.

As he walked, he said, "Namie, you can leave early today."

The highly intelligent woman shot her boss a glare before diligently packing away her materials. She said nothing even as she got up and shut the door behind her.

Kadota watched the secretary disappear in mild confusion. When he heard the soft "fshh" of the couch as Izaya sat down was when his attention returned to the topic at hand.

The raven leaned back, brought his hands together, and repeated, "Now tell me, what is it that you came all the way here for?"

"Yes…" Kadota pulled his beanie off. "I'm here on behalf of someone, but that's not all. I'm here to give you my own advice, if you're willing to listen, that is." He propped his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched, giving off a tense image.

Izaya contemplated the other's words and posture for a minute.

When he opened his mouth to continue the conversation, Kadota abruptly interjected, "But before you pry me about this, let me explain." He tilted his head up and looked Izaya straight in the eye. "And explain it bluntly. I know you don't like people sugarcoating things."

Izaya held the gaze, expressionless. Kadota paused, seemingly in conflict as to deciding whether resuming would actually be a 'good' idea.

Although Izaya didn't know what Kadota planned to tell him, he tensed with a feeling of dread. The seconds ticked by painstakingly slow in the silence.

"Shizuo's getting married."

The three-lettered sentence punched him.  _Hard_.

His mind refused to register it.

Kadota watched cautiously as he saw ephemeral flickers of emotions across the informant's face—shock, incredulity, confusion, comprehension, defeat, and finally, nothing. As quickly as the vast amount of emotions came, Izaya had secured his perfect mask of nonchalance.

"Is that so?"

This time it was Kadota's turn to stare. "Yes…yes. They're engaged, definitely. He told me that their plans for the wedding are sketchy right now, and nothing's set. One thing's for sure, though—they want it next year, around May."

Kadota waited rigidly for Izaya to display some type-any type-of reaction. After a seemingly long pause, Izaya murmured, "Nine months, huh?" Rather than conversationally, Izaya's question was more of a mumble to himself.

.xx.

A child, clad in school uniform and a bright hat, ran down the street across from the café, shaking Izaya out of yet another reverie.

Stopping abruptly, the boy twisted around excitedly, leaned forward, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted something happily.

Two other kids came running down, trying to catch up. Their backpacks flopped from side to side as they ran, hands flinging awkwardly at their sides. As the two approached, the boy in front turned around and sprinted off, laughing merrily.

Behind him, his friends shouted what might have been, "Wait up!" and splashed through the puddles to catch up. Izaya suspected that they were racing to daycare, or something similar, and that their parents were going to work today.

Unable to remove his attention from the three oblivious kids, Izaya remembered his own childhood—dark, cold, and bitter like the weather today…

.x.

Since young, Izaya was ostracized by classmates and family, all the same. His parents were never home, and when they were, they pushed him and his sisters aside.

At school, his teachers whispered amongst each other about how eccentric 'that raven-haired kid with those glowing crimson eyes' was. His schoolmates laughed at him and, at first, tried throwing rocks at him.

They ran away in fear, crying for their 'mommies' once Izaya returned the favor with his heinous smirk, yet his eyes were unreadable—a mix of pain, grief, longing, hatred, confusion…defeat.

_Why?_

_Why do they fear me so much?_

Izaya had stood there, in the playground, looking down at his stretched shadow behind the setting sun.

_Did I do something wrong?_

_Why am I so different?_

He didn't understand. He  _couldn't_  understand.

That day, he remained in that same spot, same playground, until the moon rose above him and the street lights flickered on.

 _If they can't love me,_  he thought,  _then I will love for them._

His expressionless face twisted into a mirthful grin while his eyes twinkled with glee...yet the depths of his crimson orbs reflected otherwise.

_I will love all of humanity—every single one—because I am above them._

Soft, black hair fell in front of his face as he lifted his head.

_They can't love me since they are unable to understand. I won't blame them._

Izaya stood poised and with renewed confidence.

_From now on, humans will entertain me with their struggles to live, to feel important. They will become my toys._

.xx.

The iridescent lights of Ikebukuro shone in their full glory as the bustling crowds of people rushed past ceaselessly.

On the side of the streets, salespeople talked furiously and overly joyful as they shoved flyers in front by passers who irritably tried to be polite as they pushed the papers away. High school girls giggled loudly, ignoring the late hour and other people around them. Gang members strolled aimlessly through the full streets, arms stuffed in their pockets, glaring at anyone and everyone in an attempt to appear intimidating. Some ignored them while others shrunk away, trying to prevent trouble.

Among this huge throng of people, an inconspicuous raven-haired man walked along, mixing in with the scenery.

Arms stuffed in the pockets of his favorite fur-trimmed coat, he strolled through the busy night city. He bounced along the streets, light on his feet, yet his expression did not contain a hint of its usual amusement.


	3. Chapter 3

Izaya had no idea how long he was out for.

All he remembered was that when he left his apartment in Shinjuku, the sun was just starting to set. Now, as he aimlessly walked the streets of Ikebukuro, the moon already claimed its throne high up in the dark sky.

Unknowingly, his legs brought him to the corner of a sushi place he routinely visited; seeing it tonight made reality hurt so much more…that place, full of vivid memories…full of times when…

"Sushi good!"

Simon, like usual, stood outside Russia Sushi passing out flyers and talking in his choppy Japanese, attempting to lure in customers.

"Oh! I-Za-Ya! Eat sushi to-dAY?" A smile adorned his face.

"Ah, Simon." Izaya considered dinner very briefly. "No, not today. I'll see you next time." He began to turn away, when the large Russian man suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Not eat no good! Eat sushi good for you!" His forehead creased slightly as he stared right into Izaya's eyes. When he spoke, he had switched to Russian. "Izaya, you look even skinnier than usual. Are you not eating?"

Izaya stared back silently.

"Come in and eat a little bit." The strong hand squeezed Izaya's bony shoulder.

"Alright, alright, Simon." Izaya shifted his weight, balancing himself better as Simon removed his hand, an even bigger smile covering his face.

"Good! Eat sushi good for you!" Reverted to Japanese again.

As Izaya let himself be eagerly ushered into the restaurant, his expression dropped for a split second, revealing just how exhausted and conflicted he was.

"Oh, Izaya! Welcome!"

"Hey Dennis." He pulled a chair out in front of the bar and carefully slipped into his seat.

"The usual?" The sushi chef looked sideways at Izaya while he wiped his hand to prepare the next order.

The informant leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Yes, ootoro please."

"Right on it."

Sounds of soft chattering of the other costumers mixed with the clinks from the kitchen filled Izaya's ears. He paid no attention, yet his mind settled on no one train of thought.

He didn't know how much time passed until the sudden hush throughout the shop broke the comforting atmosphere, pulling Izaya attention back to reality.

He tensed in his seat, paralyzed in his position when he caught a glimpse of a familiar bartender suit and Simon greeted heartily, "Shi-Zu-O! You two eating sushi to-dAY? Good, good! Come eat sushi!" He bent down and pushed away the awning.

Izaya stared at the entryway, eyes growing in terror and disbelief.

Locks of blind hair dipped down and into the sushi bar. Then came the bartender outfit—the fitted white shirt, the bowtie, the black slacks. As the man straightened, Izaya finally saw those sunglasses with the bluish tint.

His heart contracted laboriously when he saw the lean body step out from behind the blonde ex-bartender. Maybe, just maybe, he hoped that he could see Shizuo alone—without that girl next to him, constantly reminding the raven of the horrible pain.

Then, maybe Shizuo would pay attention to him again.

Maybe Shizuo would have eyes only for him again.

Maybe…they'll go back to how it was.

Finally, Shizuo lifted his head, eyes landing immediately on his arch nemesis, body stiffening. The blond Russian beauty beside him stood perfectly still, expression blank, indifferent.

_He would have known earlier than that…_

The entire population within the store froze, afraid that even a miniscule amount of movement was enough to detonate the ticking bomb.

"Izaya," Shizuo drawled, attempting to control his instinct to pounce on the small, agile man.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya said in acknowledgement. He successfully appeared nonchalant, pompous as usual.

His perfect mask that never betrayed him was loyally doing its duty.

Simon smoothly placed himself as a barrier between the two, stepping in front of the debt collector, cheerfully—the mirth of the big Russian was incongruous in this situation—suggesting potential delectable dishes Shizuo and his partner might want to try that night.

Shizuo absentmindedly answered Simon and asked his fiancée if she knew what she wanted to eat. The whole time, his eyes thwarted towards the general direction of where Izaya sat, body tense, but still more relaxed than a few seconds ago.

_He would have known I was here even from a mile away…_

The clack of the traditional-looking sushi plate on the table—Izaya had unconsciously leaned his body on it—grabbed his attention.

"Here you go: tuna." Dennis's voice was carefree and undisturbed.

Instinctively, Izaya exclaimed in ecstasy, "Ah! Ootoro! Thank you, Dennis." He appeared to be completely engrossed in pulling the chopsticks out of their paper slips, but all of his senses tuned in towards his left—where Shizuo stood. Out of the corner of his eye, he focused on the outline of the tall debt collector, trying to catch every movement, to decipher anything that might give Izaya a deeper insight of that man who controlled his whole being.

Unnoticeable to anyone, Izaya stiffened when he felt Shizuo pass by behind him, with Simon taking the lead and Shizuo trailing in the back, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses and hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.

When Shizuo was at Izaya's immediate right, he halted in his steps.

_Damn it, no._

"Vorona,"—Izaya's heart contracted—"Go on ahead. I'll meet you in there."

The tall blonde reached out and slipped the Russian woman's hand into his, giving it a light squeeze before letting go.

_No._

Vorona's eyes did not waver, yet as they stared into Shizuo's, the unspoken understanding between the two was obvious.

_The both of you...hurry up and get away from me._

_No more._

_I don't want to see this._

"Yes. I'll wait for you." She turned and followed Simon into one of the dining rooms.

The hushed silence of the restaurant had been replaced by suppressed mumbled, the customers having remembered their manners and tried in vain to be discreet as they cautiously glimpsed at the two monsters of Ikebukuro.

"Izaya."

Said man did not reply, ' _blissfully'_  savoring the taste of ootoro in his mouth.

" _I_ -za-ya," Shizuo repeated, this time with more force as he pushed one hand against the table, half-leaning over it.

_Stop it._

Carelessly rolling his eyes over to the blonde, Izaya spoke after deliberately chewing, then swallowing, a mouthful of the fatty tuna. "Why, what is it, Shizu-chan?"

The latter clenched and unclenched his fist, taking a few breaths to control his irrepressible temper whenever the conniving informant was within his radius.

By the time his brain was finally capable of moving his lips to form a sentence, Izaya had already plucked another slice of the glistening red fish meat off the plate and brought it to his lips, expression of complete delight.

"Izaya, come out. I need to speak with you."

"Ay, Shizu-chan. As you can tell, I'm enjoying my dinner right now~" His tongue slid out under the ootoro, glazed with a beautiful shine.

Shizuo's eyebrow twitched. He looked over at Izaya's plate, and considering that the scrawny man was almost finished, he grudgingly yanked out the chair next to Izaya—a loud scraping sound pierced through the room as the chair protested against the hardwood floor—and sat down harshly.

Izaya refused to acknowledge Shizuo's presence and obstinate persistence. To everyone in the restaurant, Izaya was clearly ignoring the blonde.

To Izaya, he was doing nothing  _but_  be overly conscious of the conspicuous man beside him.

Six minutes passed as Shizuo unhappily sat beside Izaya and stared at nothing in particular, the ghost of a crease haunting the blonde's forehead.

After what seemed like an eternity—both feeling like it was hell for wholly different reasons—Izaya set his chopsticks down and hummed, "Ah, ootoro, how I love you."

_Hah…what if I didn't say that first part?_

Immediately, Shizuo straightened and slid to the edge of the side of his seat. "Okay, flea, let's go."

"What's the hurry, Shizu-chan?" Izaya reached for his wallet as Dennis placed the tray with the bill in front of him. "Now that I don't have to worry about being maimed by unexpected flying objects—exceedingly dangerous, must I say;" He placed the exact amount of yen down into the tray and handed it to Dennis; "I would very much like to take my time here in dear Ikebukuro," he smirked.

Shizuo slammed his hands on the table and abruptly stood up, propelling the chair backwards, squeaking and collapsing to the side.

He forcefully grabbed Izaya's arm and wrenched him up, dragging him from the sushi bar.

"Whoa! Wait, Shizu-chan!"

"Dennis, tell Vorona I'll be right back and I'm sorry!" Shizuo called behind his back, not breaking his stride.

The debt collector stormed out of the restaurant with an extremely irritated expression as the informant stumbled behind, desperately trying to keep from looking flustered and helpless.

* * *

"Louse, did Kadota talk to you?"

"Yes, he did, Shizu-chan." Izaya thanked his luck that they were in a dark alley right now.

"So—um, I am trying to—uh, get on better terms with you," Shizuo stuttered.

"Oya! Shizu-chan, the one who hates me down to my atomic core, who would rather I die a hundred times over, who couldn't care less if I get mobbed by the yakuza, wants to  _reconcile_ with me?" His voice sounded confident enough...but…

Shizuo felt a vein twitch near the temple of his head.

_Calm down, calm down. You promised…_

Inhaling a deep breath, Shizuo replied as he exhaled, "Lou—Izaya," the name was stressed, "I'm trying very hard right now, so I ask that you  _please_  cooperate." Despite his efforts, his stance remained tense and stiff.

"My, Shizu-chan, you're quite serious~"

_Please, don't notice that._

Izaya rambled on, desperately trying to hide the wavering of his voice.

"What was her name again? That Russian assassin. Oh, Vorona." He let out a shaky chuckle. "I'm glad, Shizu-chan!" He flung his arms out wide. "I hope she assassinates you soon! Then I won't have an annoying brute who always ruins my plans." The last few words fluctuated in tone-from high to low...anger to defeat...malice to...helpless.

If one paid close enough attention, he would have easily detected it, but no; the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro had little to no observation skills when infuriated.

_Don't, don't, don't, oh please don't. Not now, don't notice the damned trembling._

Shizuo clenched his fists tightly together, grinding his foot on the poor cigarette that smacked against the ground two seconds ago. He heaved a deep breath shakily, lest he loses his temper and repeats history again, like so many times before-chasing Izaya down in attempted murder.

Izaya stared sideways, hands clenched onto the soft fabric inside his coat pocket.

"Fuck!" The wall dividing the alleys collapsed in a big roar. Izaya shut his eyes at the sound-he was used to it, but...this time Shizuo left him.

No longer did that brute chase after him.

No longer did he put Izaya before everything.

_No longer..._

"Ha, haha..haha!" Izaya stumbled backwards. During the short time that Shizuo stormed away from him, out the alley, turned left, and terrified everyone in his path, Izaya forced himself to stay rooted to the ground and still.

In the distance, Izaya heard cars screeching and the loud crunch of a street post being uprooted and used as a stress reliever.

His back hit the wall. He let momentum pull his head along.

The night sky twinkled with stars that night, strips of thin clouds twisting different designs. The air was chilly.

Izaya slumped against the hard wall, slowly sliding down along the cement structure.

_What am I doing?_

He ran a thin, cold hand through his raven-black hair.

_This is pathetic...I never knew just how much it hurts...to want someone—anyone—to hold me tight..._

"Haha...ha..."

He straightened and took a few steps forward.

_Those demented stories those humans swoon over-love stories...when one character is alone, in complete despair...someone always comes at the right time to console them..._

He walked instinctively, mechanically, having memorized both mentally and physically all the routes to and from Ikebukuro.

"Hah…"

_What the hell am I thinking about?_

He gripped his coat desperately, tightly, till his numbed hands turned white.

"Stupid…"

_...I can't take this anymore...why? I've survived so long by myself. I don't need anyone. I'm better than that._

_So why?_

Tears silently slid down pale, numbing cheeks, tinged with pink.

_Why do I wish for someone, anyone, to hold me...keep me together?_

He took a few stuttering breaths.

_Anything is fine...I don't care anymore...just hold me..._

He wrapped his arms in front of himself and clutched painfully tight on his upper arms.

"Please…please."

_I feel like I can fall apart any moment; my arms will become useless...it hurts...it hurts, it hurts._

A stab throbbed arduously at his heart...

"Please."

_But life doesn't work that way. No one will come; not now, not ever._

Tears stained and burned his cheeks in the desolate night.

"No one."

_No. No one will come._

Unknowingly, he had arrived at his apartment in Shinjuku.

The dark, empty apartment greeted him with malice, taking one last strike at Izaya.

"Ha—haha—hahaha!" The door slammed shut as the raven burst out laughing, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Hahahaha!" He fell against the door, slightly bent over as his hand ran through his sleek hair, stopping at the back and pulling his head towards the door.

"Hah…haha…" Tears flooded his eyes. He hiccupped and slid to the floor.

"Pathetic—ha," he mumbled.

Any infinitesimal amount of hope remaining in Izaya was crushed and hurled out the top window of a skyscraper, because, perhaps, just maybe…someone would be there.

"I've said so many times; it doesn't work that way," he continued to murmur. "So many times, that no one will be there!" He threw his hands out in front of him, palms up, fingers stretched as if grabbing for something, and suddenly clenched them into fists. "So many times!  _Why won't you listen!"_ He swung his arms up and pounded them onto the floor, hard. Even through the numbness Izaya felt the pain.

Disregarding Izaya's frustration, a few people ran through Izaya's mind, flashes of possibilities. Despite his efforts to shut it out, Izaya couldn't do anything as his thoughts tortured him with false hopes.

_Shiki…san…?_

Izaya's body relaxed, his legs straight and arms slack at his sides as he leaned against the hard door.

_Shiki-san…_

Maybe, just maybe…oh, please…

.x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The .x. is for the next chapter, 'cause we're gonna go back in time a little.


	4. Chapter 4

Izaya had watched Shizuo for a long time.

He remembered vividly the first time they met, the first time Izaya laid eyes on that monster.

Recently transferred to Raijin High, Izaya cared not for the school uniform. Throwing on his trusty black pants, red shirt, and cropped black jacket, he met with Shinra on his first day. As the young doctor tried to explain where all the school facilities were and other school-related facts, Izaya tuned him out and scanned his surrounding areas.

Everything looked bland, but decent enough. He ignored the wary and confused glances from the students as they threw him puzzled looks that said, "Why's he wearing that?" Or better, the jealous glares from the guys as the girls ogled at him.

He was about to deem his new school "boring" and "just like the others; no fun at all" when a deafening  _bam!_ sounded outside. Izaya stopped in the hallway and turned his head towards the window. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Shinra slap a hand to his face, sigh, and shake his head.

For a brief moment, Izaya wondered why Shinra would have such a reaction, and his wondering changed to frustration; he was supposed to be the one with all the information. He was not going to allow someone else know while he stood wondering.

Izaya didn't have to wait long—nor try—until the perpetrator showed himself below. The raven-haired boy peered out the window and saw a blonde boy, wearing a ragged, blue Raijin uniform, panting and easily clutching a streetlight as a group of other boys surrounded him.

 _A gang fight in the middle of the day, huh?_ was the first thought that went through Izaya's mind.

Three seconds later, though, Izaya couldn't believe his eyes.

The blonde boy at the bottom effortlessly swung the pole around and knocked down all of his attackers. Izaya saw the fresh cuts on the other's face, chest, and arms. Yet, it seemed as if he didn't even notice them.

From that moment on, the young informant was captivated. He resolved to meet that blonde boy and make him a part of his life.

He, that monster, turned everything upside down.

.

The truths that Izaya had convinced himself of were challenged, ridiculed, and ripped apart as Shizuo hurdled into Izaya's life.

He was the complete opposite of the raven; never did he hesitate to express his thoughts and feelings.

Impulsive, yes.

Reckless, yes.

But honest and true to himself.

Weren't all humans selfish, greedy, and manipulative?

_Well, then. Shizu-chan is a monster._

* * *

During the next few days, Izaya watched Shizuo throughout the school day, all the while pretending not to care about anything. Shinra was his escort and guide for the first few weeks of school.

Finally, after casually asking Shinra about 'that boy with blonde hair', Izaya offhandedly commented that he wanted to meet him, that Heiwajima Shizuo. Shinra had raised his eyebrows and observed Izaya's face for a brief moment before relenting.

" _Fine, but promise me that you won't do anything to provoke him."_

Izaya smirked and met Shinra's eyes, but he made no reply. Returning his gaze to outside the window, Izaya leaned back, using his arms as support on the table, and swung his legs back and forth. He had never been so eager to meet someone in his life.

.

That day, after school, Shinra attempted to introduce the two. As Shizuo finished up his 'fight', Shinra and Izaya waited on the side.

Izaya stared, his whole body brimming with excitement. He was so graceful, so beautiful, that Shizuo. His strength was unmatched, and he was unrestricted. He was a monster, terrifying, enchanting, and irresistible.

Once the last idiot fell, Izaya ardently clapped his hands. Well, it was befitting in this situation, right?

Shizuo turned, cautious and suspecting of the crimson-eyed stranger. After regarding Izaya for a few seconds, he declared matter-of-factly, "I don't like him."

A slight pain cut through the young informant's chest. This was just like those other times…those other meaningless times when people put him in an unfavorable category before even getting to know him—but, why did he care so much when it came from this brute?

"Oh?" He covered it with his usual mask. He was definitely not going to back down so easily. "That's too bad. I thought I'd be able to have some fun with you." A wave of the hand, followed by a provocative smirk that said, 'I'm better than you.'

"Shut up." Shizuo turned away. Who was this guy? Why did he give Shizuo such an unsettling feeling in his stomach?

_It's best if I don't get close to him._

"Don't say that, Shizuo-kun." Izaya's sentence ended with an amused smirk. Having detected the mocking tone in the raven's voice, Shizuo spun around and charged at the latter in a fit of anger and irritation.

With an effortless push of the hands and tap of the feet, Izaya easily leapt away from the insanely powerful blonde. Anguish flickered across his eyes for a split second before he replaced it with his amused grin as he spun around and nimbly sliced at Shizuo's chest.

_I am not one of those other people who you can easily fling away without a care in the world. They don't understand you; they're mere humans. All they care about is themselves—selfish, arrogant, imprudent, ignorant._

_We are on a different level. We terrify them; we cannot be classified under the same definition._

A snap of his wrist made his blade flick upward, pointing straight at Shizuo as Izaya tilted his head condescendingly.

"See? It's fun."

* * *

That night, Izaya sat alone on the roof of a random building in the brightly light streets of Ikebukuro. He lay on his back, one arm cushioning his head as the other twirled his flick blade in front of him.

Behind his hand and blade, the night sky shimmered with small blue specks of stars while the buildings were illuminated by shining lights of the city. The air was cold, but Izaya did not notice, for he was too engrossed in his excited and determined thoughts.

With a smile on his face, his crimson eyes glowed with glee.

_Ah, Shizu-chan._

He twirled his blade around his fingers.

_If you won't let anyone come close, then I will force my way in._

An image of Shizuo flashed before his eyes, standing there looking exactly like he did after his fight just hours ago.

_If you're afraid to hurt those around you, then I will make you_ **want** _to hurt me._

"Right?" He murmured, voice laden with amusement.

_If you want others to stay away from you, then I will make_ **you** _chase after_ **me** _._

He set his thin, pale arms down beside him and closed his eyes.

_If you can't love someone, then I will let you hate me._

The raven's breathing slowed as he relived the meeting he had with that blonde monster, forgetting about everything—and anything—else.

_I will be your only focus._

_All you see will be me, and only me._

_By whatever means, I will make you mine…_

… _ **while I will become your one and only**_ _._

.xx.

He ran. His legs carried him as fast as they can, but not quick enough.

His breath came in short, painful breaths as he forced himself to continue sprinting, jumping,  _anything_ , to get away from there. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, propelling his body over gates and fences—yet, they were still catching up.

His heartbeat pounded in his ear while his whole body screamed at him to rest.

He ignored such obvious necessities as he desperately pushed forward. The sound of their falling footsteps taunted him, laughed at him, while the impassioned shouts and clangs of metal nagged incessantly at his thoughts.

The wind slapped at his cheeks and he felt himself slowing down.

_Ah, damn._

Albeit the desperateness of his situation, his thoughts remained calm. Maybe that's what helped him through all these years of danger. His lithe, cat-like body was not for confronting huge men who can snap his spine easier than a twig.

All but—

_Ah, shit._

He had slowed tremendously, panting heavily and simultaneously trying to gulp huge amounts of air. He darted into another alley, behind stairs, into yet another dark alley, and collapsed against a wall.

For what seemed like a long time—five minutes, at most—all Izaya heard was the harsh loudness of his own breathing and the sounds of his pursuers grow unceasingly closer.

He bent over, trying to regain composure as quickly as possible.  _Shit. Shit, shitshitshit! How could I have been so stupid!_ He clenched his fists together, pushing them against his half-bent knees.

 _Shit,_ he swore once more as his body stiffened right when he noticed the dark silhouette in the shadows covering the alley. Unconsciously gripping his knees, Izaya froze rock still. His mind ran through hundreds of different ways of escape, and he was about to act on one of them when something about the person kept Izaya standing there, motionless, not knowing why he didn't run away already. For a split second, the raven hesitated in his usual sleek escapes, and that split second was enough for the person to step within range of the informant and speak.

"Izaya."

The tone was casual, cold, uncaring—as if they were striking a conversation outside a café.

"It seems like your predictions were off this time; what happened to the great, infallible Orihara Izaya?"

Izaya heard the amused, mocking words clearly. He had not moved an inch from his position, still bent over, leaning against the wall.

The man took his time as he stepped over to Izaya.

"Shiki-san..." Izaya began. He straightened himself, albeit still backed against the wall. "I apologize for the mistake. I will—"

"No," Shiki interrupted as he snapped open his lighter.

Izaya kept quiet, watching as Shiki lit his cigarette, inhaled the nicotine, and exhaled the poisonous gas.

"It's fine. My men will fix it for now. Well, you did more than you were asked, anyways. Didn't we arrange to meet tomorrow morning?" He stopped briefly before continuing as Izaya kept quiet, "It doesn't matter anyways. If I was not notified, I wonder if you'll be able to maneuver your way out of this." Another puff. "Actually, I am quite interested."

Izaya felt a surge of anger rush through him. He was frustrated with himself, frustrated at his mistake. He was Orihara Izaya; that should explain everything, and he  _always_ came out as the winner.

Tires screeched in the distance, seemingly some sort of cue for Shiki as he raised his head towards that direction, held his cigarette up in his hand, and thought for a few seconds.

He turned and began walking.

Izaya remained stiff, once again running escape routes through his head. He cannot trust Shiki, despite the number of years he's worked for him.

After a few steps, the Awakusu-kai executive stopped and glanced back. "Izaya-san, please hurry up. I have business to speak to you about."

 _Hurry...hurry up. So I have to leave with him._ That didn't sound all too promising, but anything was better than the risk of being caught by those men.

* * *

 _"_ What's wrong, Shizuo?" Tom looked over his shoulder at his partner. The night lights of Ikebukuro fully bloomed at this late hour, with people still strolling around, not caring a bit about the time.

Shizuo had stopped and was staring at something behind him. Apparently, he did not hear Tom, for he made no reply.

 _"_ Shizuo?" his senpai repeated, bordering on concern.

The blonde finally turned around, but not because of his senpai's calls. Shizuo's eyes were unfocused, as if he had entered a different world of his own, and he didn't notice Tom in front of him at all. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants, he instinctively began to take a few steps forward before abruptly stopping as Tom called out, once again, "Shizuo!"

His eyes grew wide in shock, albeit concealed to Tom and everyone else as his bluish sunglasses still rested on the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, Tom-san, what were you saying?"

Relieved that Shizuo finally responded, Tom grinned and briefly shook his head. "You know, Shizuo, I know that you're ecstatic about your engagement, and that it's probably the only thing on your mind right now, but please do try to pay some attention to where you're going," Tom teasingly mocked.

Shizuo hesitated for a second, confused at what his senpai was saying, and when he finally understood, he was embarrassed and humbly apologized, "I'm sorry, Tom-san..." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and although his senpai had the wrong idea, Shizuo thought that clarifying would actually make things more confusing and difficult to explain and make sense of.

"Oh, I don't mean it that way. It's no big deal, Shizuo." Tom's tone switched to a slightly serious one, but it quickly changed back to being happy and carefree. "I'm excited for you, too! I can't believe you're actually getting married already! Ah, then what does that make me?" He smiled at Shizuo, who stood there, feeling uncomfortable.

"Nothing much is gonna change..." He certainly did feel a surge of happiness at the thought of marrying Vorona, but along with that joy, a feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint accompanied it—somewhat like an uneasy uncertainty, something he didn't know why was there.

Seeing Shizuo's response—or none thereof, Tom's expression stayed plastered on his face as he passingly wondered what the matter was.

Meanwhile, Shizuo completely ignored his surroundings and followed Tom out of habit. Something else occupied the whole of his mind.

A few streets back, he had caught glimpse of a certain skinny, cunning, absolutely annoying flea in the distance. In the shadows of the busy streets, a man in a crisp, white suit entered a spotless limo, and following behind him was a young man who wore dark colors, and a coat with fur-trim.

No doubt, that was Izaya.

Yet, why didn't Shizuo notice earlier?

When he saw the two, he even hesitated for a second or so before he was sure that it was Izaya.

Well, to Shizuo's credit, the raven held himself quite differently than usual; his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he seemed lost, confused, as if he no longer had the immense amount of control over himself and others.

Why did it seem like he was broken, like he no longer cared about what was going on around him?

 _That_  Izaya who claimed to love humanity so much?

 _The_  Izaya who would not let the smallest chance of observing humans slip by?

He, who now appeared completely vulnerable and submissive?

 _Was that_   _Izaya_?

Shizuo had stood staring, utterly confused. His initial reaction of anger and irritation didn't even surface.

As he walked after Tom, pondering the expression on Izaya's face—one that Shizuo had never seen—he abruptly stopped again as he realized what he was doing.

_Wait, why do I care what the flea looked like? He's always looked disgusting! With that smirk on his face as if he's-well, he didn't smir-that doesn't matter! Why do I give a damn?_

Shizuo released his clenched fists.

_Wait—I didn't even notice that he was in Ikebukuro._

Shizuo didn't know what to think. For the past six years or so—since high school when they met—Shizuo had  _always_  detected Izaya's presence regardless of where that louse was.

Can it be considered a good thing that the flea was off his mind more, now?

Well...

"-zuo! Shizuo, I think we should call it quits for today," Tom sighed, as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets.

Once again jolted out of his deep thoughts, Shizuo felt ashamed. "Sorry, Tom-san," he muttered. "And thank you. I promise I'll do better tomorrow." He hung his head slightly.

"Yeah. Rest up, Shizuo. I don't want you getting sick! What would I do without you to help me get to debtors to pay their money back?" Tom sounded cheerful, trying to lighten up his junior's spirits.

Shizuo nodded his head. "Nn. I'll be fine. Good-night, Tom-san."

"Good-night, Shizuo."

The latter stood and watched his senior disappear into the throng of the night crowd before turning around and letting his feet take him to a random destination as he was immersed in his thoughts again.

Shizuo didn't realize how long he had wandered the streets of Ikebukuro for. By the time he finally lifted his head and noticed his surroundings, the sky was completely dark, while the distinctive night life of the busy city was already fully awake and alive.

With his hands still buried deep inside his front pockets, the ex-bartender stood at a crosswalk directly across from a dark alleyway, which was engulfed in obscurity as bright lights illuminated the main, populated sections of the city.

As he waited for the traffic light to turn green, Shizuo pulled his lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and snapped open the lid.

A thin figure slipped by, across that street, and caught his attention. It resembled Izaya, the way it walked, the mysterious aura around that person.

Shizuo slammed his lighter shut and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Not caring whether the light was green or not, the blonde ran towards that shadowed person. With cars honking, pedestrians screaming, drivers shouting profanities, Shizuo couldn't care less as his vision locked on only one place: that dark alleyway in front of him. If anything was in his path on that street, he flung it away just as easily, adding to the chaotic noise of screams and crashes.


	5. Chapter 5

.x.

_A few hours prior._

"Well, Izaya?"

A trail of smoke exited the nonchalant Awakusu-kai executive's mouth as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips. His cold, piercing eyes never moved away from the face of the informant—cunning, quick, and manipulative.

As he sat in the couch across from Shiki's desk, however, Izaya felt anything but those three descriptions of him. Rather, he refused to look Shiki in the eye, because his tended to go unfocused and lose their gaze every few minutes.

Why can't he seem to focus these days?

Once again, Izaya began to immerse himself in his thoughts, forgetting about his surroundings.

Shiki noticed, had noticed before, and sat smoking his cigarette, silently observing the informant.

"Well? Shiki-san, you know everything already. What else do you want me to say?" Izaya flashed a glance over at Shiki before returning to his previous line of vision—staring at the right corner of the office desk.

A trail of smoke snaked upwards as Shiki took his time to exhale his puff of nicotine, and then leaned forward and straightened himself in his office chair, saying, "You went into that unprepared." He paused for effect, to let his words sink in with impact. "You let them realize your true motives, Orihara-san"—the change to surname implied that Izaya was on his own in this—"and you almost ruined  _our_  plans by your one blatant mistake."

The disapproving words went through the raven's ears and lodged themselves in the back of his brain.

Izaya wasn't listening.

He knew what Shiki was saying, what he meant, and the informant couldn't bear to hear anymore. Those days he already couldn't concentrate, frequently messing up his word, and he didn't want Shiki, of all people, to rub salt on his wounds. His mind drifted away from reality…away to the scenes his subconscious mind played for him in his sleep the past two weeks, increasing in intensity recently.

The solitary image of the dimly lit room, the corner of the mahogany desk, the yellowish glow of the lamp, all faded away—stayed in the back of his mind—as the familiar scenes from his dreams played out in front of him, in that room. He remembered how he felt like he was shivering, numb from walking in the rain for hours, clad only in his thin clothing. He didn't know where he was, why he was walking, why he was the only person in that vicinity. All the stores were closed, no cars, nothing.

As he continued walking, without knowing why or to where, a gray, unclear silhouette was discernible in the distance, just standing there. It never moved an inch even as Izaya walked closer.

 _It's a guy_ , he thought offhandedly, too cold and numb to care.

Finally, as he approached the other man, as they were about two stores away from each other, Izaya recognized the solid stature, the blond hair, the bartender outfit, and the ever-present frown whenever the informant was around.

He stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed with cold and dread.

_Why is Shizu-chan here? Why? I look pathetic._

No matter how hard he tried, Izaya couldn't move away, couldn't make himself turn around and leave.

_I don't want him to see me like this…_

He was still paralyzed, though, in his dream.

His half-conscious mind flinched when he noticed Shizuo move towards him. The raven stared straight ahead, at the blonde's soaked chest, bowtie slanted.

He felt himself stiffen when the taller man lifted his arm, reaching for his face, and his eyes snapped shut. He was unable to move, so might as well brace for the punch that would easily smash his jaw to pieces.

The impact never came.

Instead, a warm sensation on his cheek aroused Izaya's curiosity to open his eyes, to figure out why he didn't get attacked.

Peering right back at him was a pair of hazel eyes, expression soft, mixed with pain and sadness.

_Why—what…is this?_

He didn't know he had been crying until Shizuo brushed at his eyes with a tenderness Izaya had never dared to wish for from that beautiful, horrible, blonde. The warmth from those calloused fingers triggered a continuous flow of tears, falling down as the rain pelted them both. Neither said a word, never made a sound.

Izaya sealed his lips, for fear of breaking the trance they were both in, of ruining this moment he had been longing for, for years. Shizuo kept his hand on the pale raven's cheek, caressing his soft skin, never looking away from those crimson eyes which were blurred by tears and tiredness. He reached out with his other arm and enveloped the scrawny informant, pulling him to his chest and embraced him with both arms.

Izaya shook terribly; he was still standing only because of Shizuo. His tears were almost enough to drown him; he couldn't stop crying. He gripped onto the blonde's soaked vest and hiccupped as he wept, desperately clinging on to that one thing, that one person, that he had ever wanted.

The disconcerted informant was brutally brought back to reality with the loud  _clunk!_ of a glass cup on the hard coffee table in front of him and the couch. Shiki had purposely set it down noisily, and as Izaya lifted his eyes, he saw the executive slide one hand into his pocket and the other rose to his lips for another puff of the cigarette. The informant stared, mind blank, desperately trying to remember and sort out his thoughts. Just a second ago he was living in a much-preferred world than this treacherous reality. He felt himself begin to fall apart again—and it was at the worst possible time.

"Izaya, I've noticed that you haven't been quite well. Please, tell me about it."

Said man stared into the other's eyes, surprised at the offer and at the hint of concern in the voice, albeit the usual coldness. He hesitated slightly before replying, "No, I'm fine, Shiki-san. The lack of sleep has finally gotten to me…" His sentence drifted off as he realized how unconvincing and non-Izaya-like it sounded.

"Never mind that, Shiki-san," he continued with a chuckle and a smirk, "I apologize for my stupid mistake tonight. It will be fixed and never be mentioned again." Izaya pushed himself off the sofa and headed directly to the door. With a hand on the knob, he turned around and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but I must take my leave now. Don't worry; I'll have everything finished by tomorrow afternoon."

As he pulled the door open, he heard Shiki say, "Now, Izaya, I don't doubt you. If anything ever happens, though," Shiki paused slightly, "you know the consequences."

Izaya didn't look back. He walked out of the room and left the building as quickly as possible, without appearing suspicious to anyone—the employees, or Shiki's subordinates. Once out in the dark streets, he took the time to review the events of the day, starting with what Shiki said last.

_If anything ever happens…_

Izaya knew the hidden meaning behind that apparent threat. Shiki wasn't dumb; he knew. He knew Izaya possibly even better than the informant knew himself.

… _you know the consequences…_

Shiki was talking about Shizuo.

Yes, about Shizuo, and not about the fatal flaw Izaya had made a few hours earlier, when he had forgotten that the deal with Awakusu and a few other shady groups was to be implemented after Shiki had gotten what he planned for—yet, Izaya went into the meeting place of a couple of rival gangs, proffered some sort of cooperation—that bordered on threat—with them, but instead, the members were riled and locked on to the idea of how satisfying it would be to "tame" the cunning informant when even the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro couldn't.

Well, then, that's how the chase started, with a fair amount of tough, bloodthirsty gang members chasing after Izaya, all competing with each other to see who can catch him first. If it was any other time, Izaya would've escaped, though not easily, but it wouldn't have been difficult, either.

However, what with the lack of concentration and absentmindedness lately, Izaya—to his own frustration—slipped here and there, stumbled, and almost made a fatal fall quite a few times, despite his skills as a master parkour user.

When he was finally able to get a fair amount of distance between the roused gang members was when Shiki showed up not five minutes later.

Izaya stopped in the middle of the street. He didn't notice that he had wandered into the middle of one of the most populated areas of the city, right into the heart of Ikebukuro. Rooted to the ground, the raven froze, blanking out on what he was doing, or rather, what he should be doing. Despite the late hour, people bustled around him, chatting, walking, going about their happy lives.

Looking around, Izaya tried to identify just where, exactly, he was. He had every part, every alleyway, every hole in Ikebukuro memorized. He didn't want to return to Shinjuku that night…his apartment was wholly empty and void of warmth. Just thinking of it…was too much. Too much…for every time the image of the dark, cold world he lived in appeared in his mind, the raven would immediately see the beautiful shock of blonde hair, that unwavering stance, those—

_No._

Izaya was ready to ruin one of his precious humans' lives at the expense of his own irritation. What the hell was wrong with him?

Well, true, an infinite amount of problems could be listed, but that was beside the point.

Scanning his eyes across the streets, Izaya found a small alley that'd lead him up to a high rooftop; he effortlessly slipped through the throngs of people and into the dark place, easily propelling himself upwards, to the top of the building, overlooking the illuminated night life of the city.

Izaya walked over to the edge and leaned himself against the flimsy rail, carelessly watching the indistinct shapes of people move down below.

Incoherent thoughts cluttered his mind again, as he paid no attention to his surroundings.

Images of those days in high school played out in front of him, brought him back to the time when he saw Shizuo every day, when he dominated every second of the blonde's life.

He remembered when Shizuo would charge into class at random times, shouting accusations that Izaya was the mastermind behind whatever problem that had arisen before Shizuo. That Izaya had planned for the boy's demise, for his torturous death. The raven would smirk, giving off his usual aura of mysteriousness, deviousness, and, especially, sagaciousness. Inwardly, he was bursting with delight and amusement.

Along with his smirk, he'd nonchalantly lean back in his chair and reply, " _Well? Shizu-chan, you certainly don't believe that I can teleport, since I've been here the whole time. I have everyone here as a witness."_ Turning his head to the teacher, he'd continue, " _Right, sensei?"_

A soft chuckle left his lips as he vividly remembered the bright red color flush across Shizuo's face, and in the midst of his anger, the infuriated boy grabbed a desk and flung it straight at the raven.

The memory darted away as Izaya fell back in sync with reality because of his involuntary chuckle.

The coldness of the night seeped through his thin attire, and the happiness of the reminiscence faded away. A small puff of white appeared when Izaya exhaled, and he pulled his coat tighter, discreetly trying to warm himself up, although no one was around to watch him.

_Shizu-chan…_

Memories flooded his mind.

_Shizu-chan…_

He had so much he wanted to express.

So much, that it could only be conveyed by that one name.

_Shizu-chan…_

His vision blurred, and the mass of people below, along with the glimmer of the lights, became even more indistinct, mushing into a big mess of colors, not unlike the view through the windshield on a particularly rainy night.

_I love humans, but what about monsters?_

His chest constricted painfully.

_I hate them._

"What are you doing here?"

Izaya spun around, his alarm and defenses at their max, and prepared to confront the person he had not been able to sense approach him.

His guard, which had shot up, pummeled down just as quickly.

_Shizu-chan's a monster…_

Standing before him, near the door leading from the building to the rooftop, was the blonde, complete in his bartender suit.

Izaya was at a loss for words. A witty reply evaded him, and all he could do was remain in his position, trying not to lose his composure.

_Therefore, I hate Shizu-chan._

A vein twitched near Shizuo's temple.

"I said," he repeated, "what are you doing here?" This time, his voice evidently contained irritation and anger.

In the dark, along with the distance between them and the shine of the lights behind the raven, Shizuo didn't see that Izaya's mouth opened, only to close again, without a word.

_Shizu-chan._

That was all he could think of.

_It's Shizu-chan._

Izaya took a step towards the man.

_Shizu-chan's here…_

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Shizu-chan…" It was barely above a whisper.

The vein twitched again.

"Didn't I say, Izaya- _kun_ , to stop calling me that!"

Izaya didn't reply. Rather, he didn't even hear what Shizuo said. All he focused on was the fact that this man was in front of him right now, that he was right there. He was alone, looking solely at Izaya, without that assassin girl with him. In the raven's mind, they were back in the days when Shizuo had no eyes for anyone but him, no one but Izaya.

"Shizu-chan..." Izaya breathed, repeating the name like a mantra.

Shizuo stared, confused at Izaya's completely different attitude and personality.

Was this really the annoying man who never lost his composure?

The one who always had that smirk on his face, who always acted as if he controlled the world?

_Is this Izaya?_

"Louse, what are you up to now?" The blonde tried to make his voice sound threatening, but it only came out that way for the first two words.

He received no reply; the raven only stepped ever-closer to him.

Only a foot away, Izaya stopped. Shizuo had never seen that expression from him before, never seen such an overflowing amount of emotions reflected in those unexpectedly deep, crimson eyes before. He was taken aback; he unconsciously let his guard down for once in front of Izaya. The latter's gaze seemed to pierce right through Shizuo, shaking a resolve in him that he never knew he had.

What was it?

 _Is he shaking?_ His thought brought his attention to the trembling body of the thin man.

_Why—?_

Without notice, Izaya reached out for Shizuo's face. He was so close, so damn close.

_Shizu-chan, you're the only one I hate;_

His vision blurred due to the tears that threatened to fall out of the corner of his eyes as his whole being gravitated towards that one man he had always been mesmerized by.

– _the only one to hold that position in my heart._

No matter how contradictory it sounded, no matter how unreasonable, that was all Izaya could do to explain, to admit, Shizuo's importance in his life.

"Shizu-chan—"

He couldn't stand it anymore.

_Once, just once._ _**Please** _ _, save me just this one time._

He trembled from head to toe, which was draining the small amount of strength he had left.

The blonde stood paralyzed, rooted to the ground in those shocking three seconds when all his brain registered was Izaya lunging towards him.

Next, he felt frozen, soft hands brush through his hair and around his neck.

_Wait—waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait—_

He felt those hands hold on tightly and pull him forward as his eyes grew wide in shock and his feet stumbled for balance.

_Fuck! He's going to stab me—or somethi—_

A moment of panic blocked everything else out of his mind—the brimming tears on the raven's face, the shaking of those hands, the immense pain evident in that voice—nothing registered. His natural instincts and his habits nurtured through countless times of chasing that louse down controlled his actions now.

Shizuo wrung the weak, shaking arms away from his neck— _what does he think he's doing!—_ and flung the raven across the roof.

He was not surprised when Izaya landed lightly on his feet, but he barely registered that it was done less smoothly than usual. As Izaya stood up, he had stumbled a fraction of a step before regaining balance. Shock jolted him out of his muddled state.

Shizuo couldn't have cared less at that moment. His breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling noticeably as his heart beat loudly in his ears. Never had Izaya come that close before—at least, and especially, not that unexpectedly. Adrenaline rushed through his body in a split second once his brain had only registered the proximity of Shizuo's number one enemy.

Slowly calming down, he waited for Izaya to move, to do something, but the lithe man was stock still, had been since he landed. Then, he turned his upper body around, glanced briefly at Shizuo, and turned back around to start walking towards the edge of the building. In that brief instant, when Shizuo saw the raven's expression, he was thrown aback.

_What was that?_

His train of thought shattered when the sound of laughter passed by his ears. At first it was a soft chuckle, and then it burst into a short, hysterical laugh, which ended just as abruptly as it started. Shizuo, frozen in his spot, stared at the back of Izaya's head. For the umpteenth time, Shizuo was only able to pinpoint one thought, that one thought of  _This is Izaya?_ in a galaxy of many others he couldn't quite put his hands on.

"Haha..." The laugh was mirthless, hollow. Shizuo had already calmed his breathing to a steadier pace, and now he straightened himself. His brain was beginning to register Izaya's posture: shoulders slightly slumped, arms tense, a hint of a defeated look. The laugh, though, was what caught Shizuo's interest.

Somehow, it left deep impression on him...he'd never heard something that pained, that hopeless. It was a sound of a final decision to give up, to let go and fall, after years and years of clutching on to a thin line of hope. But, what was it that Izaya was giving up on? That Izaya, who was persistent as hell and always found a way to get what he wanted, to do what he wanted?

Twisting his upper body to face Shizuo, Izaya's small smile and downward gaze reflected only a portion of his true inner emotions, but that small amount shown was enough to throw Shizuo off. Izaya refused to meet Shizuo's eyes; if he did, who knows what he'd do? Run over and hope that the brute would understand? Cry and stutter in front of that frustratingly dense man? Punch that beautiful face?

No, he couldn't look into those eyes. He mustn't.

"Shizu-chan, you're a cruel man." That simple sentence, spoken softly yet clearly, stabbed at Shizuo.

He didn't know why.

He didn't, but it still forced him to strain his ears to hear Izaya.

At that time, Shizuo was unable to connect that the tension he felt and the tone of the raven's voice were all because of Izaya's resolution that night to give up, to let go of everything, because Shizuo was his everything. He was running away from the pain he'd face when he would be ignored by Shizuo. It was already happening, and it hurt this much.

What would become of him when Shizuo finally married that assassin girl and Izaya was merely another person in this big city that passed by Shizuo? Tears threatened their way back to Izaya's eyes.

_No, tonight's the last. The last time I'll…Shizu-chan._

Izaya removed his gaze from the dark roof floor and turned back around, blinking much more than normal, willing the moistness in his eyes away. He faced out into the heart of Ikebukuro, away from Shizuo. "Very cruel, indeed."

Shizuo barely had time to react before Izaya jumped from the building. He didn't bother chasing him, since his mind was already cluttered with too many things to comprehend. He didn't know how that his not chasing Izaya had crushed the last lingering piece of hope the raven had tried to push away.

He didn't need to anymore.

It was no longer there. Stomped on and thrown away.


End file.
